Strawberry Jam and Portals

The ceiling of his room seemed to be watching him, as if it were awake too. Axel had been staring at it for over twenty minutes, unable to move. The pillow felt too soft, too comfortable, like it wanted to hold him there and pretend that nothing from the previous day had been real.

Yet, the faint murmur of voices in his mind pushed him toward the truth: Lucy, Lexus, Tyfo, the gunfire, the energy that had coursed through his body like liquid fire. It wasn’t a dream. There was no room for doubt anymore.

He placed his hand over his chest, right where the wound had been hours ago. His skin was unmarked, intact, yet he swore he could feel a faint warmth there, a physical echo of the moment.
“This can’t be…” he muttered under his breath.

He turned his head toward the window. The morning sky stretched out, clear and soft, sunlight spilling through half-closed curtains. Everything looked so… normal. As if his everyday life were waiting. As if he could get up, get dressed, and catch the bus to school. As if nothing had changed.

But it had. And a lot.

The realization hit him like a weight, freezing him in place: he was going to leave everything behind.

His friends, his routines, even his parents. He thought of Pedro, with his clumsy humor and habit of sending three-minute voice messages that could be summed up with “Hey, wanna play tonight?” He thought of his best friend, the only person he could talk to without feeling like a freak. They had been present in every one of his days, even when Axel tried to push them away.

Then his father came to mind. A large, serious figure who rarely offered gentle words. Their relationship had always been an incomplete puzzle: pieces that never quite fit, awkward silences replacing conversation. There was no hatred, no overflowing affection; just a distance neither had managed to bridge.

His mother, on the other hand, appeared in his memory like a warm breeze: the messages, the “How are you?”s, the hug that was always there, even when he sometimes rejected it with teenage indifference.

His throat tightened. How could he ever explain this to them?

There was no way. He didn’t even fully understand it himself. The only thing he knew was that the path ahead could only be walked this one way. Lucy and Lexus had appeared in his life like a storm, and now everything revolved around them.

He closed his eyes. For the first time, he allowed himself to admit it: he was scared. Much more than he wanted to recognize.

A sharp sound from the kitchen snapped him from his thoughts. The clock read 8:30. He sighed, got up sluggishly, and dressed quickly.

The electric coffee maker filled the kitchen with a strong, comforting aroma. Axel placed two slices of bread in the toaster and rested his elbows on the table while waiting. The silence felt strange, almost suffocating, after sharing the previous night’s tension and adrenaline.

A soft door creak announced Lucy’s entrance. She appeared with tousled hair and bright eyes, as if she couldn’t tell the difference between dawn and morning.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the toaster like it were an alien device.

“This? A toaster,” Axel replied, holding back a smile.

“And it…?”

The toast popped up with a perfect “clack.” Lucy’s eyes widened like a surprised cat, then she burst into contagious laughter.

“This is magic!” she exclaimed, taking a slice without waiting. She frowned after the first bite. “Something’s missing.”

Axel set a jar of jam on the table. Lucy looked at it as if she’d discovered a forbidden treasure. She opened it, scooped some with a spoon, and her eyes lit up even more.

“What is this?!”

“Strawberry jam.”

“I demand provisions!”

“Provisions?” Axel chuckled quietly.

“Yes. Jars—lots of jars. They could save our lives.”

The seriousness in her voice made Axel laugh out loud unexpectedly—the first genuine laugh he’d had in a long time.

Lexus arrived a few minutes later, frowning slightly, his hair perfectly styled as if freshly taken from a futuristic magazine. He looked at the table, saw the open jar, and exhaled sharply.

“Lucy, always testing the weird things from this world.”

“They’re not weird,” she shot back, hugging the jar like a trophy. “This is culinary art.”

Axel shook his head, amused, as he poured coffee into three cups.

The scene was surreal: two people from another world sitting in his kitchen as if they were lifelong friends. For a moment, Axel let that strange normalcy envelop him.

Axel frowned as he finished his toast.

“But… how exactly are we going to travel to another dimension?” he asked, incredulous but curious.

Lexus sighed and pulled a small device from his pocket—a metallic button with blinking lights.

“This,” he said, pointing at it, “is what lets us connect to the other world. It’s a link between your world and ours. It’s not magic. It doesn’t work just because you wish it. We have to generate a portal from over there, in our territory, and this button sends the signal to open it.”

Axel stared, trying to process everything.

“Wait… it opens from there? So they can come here while I’m gone? Could it put my family, my friends in danger?”

Lexus leaned closer, serious but calm.

“Relax. We have security measures. We’ll send people to protect your home, your family. Everything will be monitored. Your safety and the safety of those you care about is our priority.”

Axel swallowed hard, looking down, still worried.

“But… if something goes wrong, if they can’t find me, won’t they try to take them too, just to find me?”

“No,” Lucy interrupted softly. “Axel, we’ll handle all of that. Every detail. We won’t let anyone get hurt. That’s why it’s so important that you listen to us and follow the plan. You’re key to making this work.”

Axel took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

“Okay… I trust you. But I need you to promise me that no one I care about will be in danger.”

Lexus nodded, his voice lowering with solemnity.

“I promise. We’ll do everything we can to make sure nothing happens. And once we’re in the other world, you’ll understand how it all works.”

Axel leaned back, thinking about the responsibilities he was about to take on and everything he was leaving behind. The idea of stepping into the unknown terrified him, but at the same time, something inside told him he had to do it.

“Alright…” he said finally, with a sigh. “I’ll go with you. But don’t ask me to stop worrying.”

Lexus offered a tired, slight smile.

“I’d never ask that, Axel. Worrying is what keeps you human.”

Later, he locked himself in his room to pack. Four suitcases lay open on the bed: half-packed clothes, a small TV wrapped in blankets, and the PlayStation with all its cables.

Lexus walked in, raised an eyebrow.

“What’s all this?”

“My luggage.”

“Four suitcases? And that black box?”

“The PlayStation.”

“The… what?”

Lucy appeared behind him, curious.

“And that gray thing with buttons?”

“It’s a controller. For gaming.”

Lucy grabbed it with both hands, pressing buttons and smiling in fascination. Lexus, however, snorted.

“No time for toys.”

“They’re not toys. They’re…” Axel sighed, aware they’d never understand. “Never mind.”

The conversation spiraled into chaos as Lucy asked about plugs and Axel tried explaining adapters. Lexus held his head as if in pain. For the first time in ages, Axel laughed out loud—a clean, genuine laugh.

The moment to leave came too fast. Axel stood in front of his desk, a blank sheet in front of him, pen trembling in hand.

He wrote:
“Mom, Dad,
Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m leaving for a while, but I’ll be safe.
Don’t try to understand—it’s not possible. Just trust me.
Love, Axel.”

He read it over and over. It wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t write more. Folding it carefully, he left it on the kitchen table, where he knew his mother would see it first.

Lucy and Lexus waited silently by the door. Neither said a word.

Lexus raised the device and pressed the blue crystal. A bright light spread, filling the room with electric sparks. The air seemed to vibrate, as if the whole world were holding its breath.

Axel turned one last time toward the interior of his home. The smell of coffee lingered. The wall clock read 10:30. He swallowed, adjusted his grip on the suitcase, and stepped forward.

The glow enveloped him completely.
And the world he knew vanished.